The Dothraki warrior struck by the whip instantly had a vicious welt bloom across his face.
But he did not dare clutch the wound or cry out.
To the Dothraki, fearing pain was the mark of a coward. Especially pain delivered by a respected khal.
If he made a sound now, he would be finished in the eyes of everyone around him.
Ogo glared at the soldiers before him like a fierce alpha wolf.
"Have we lost? No!"
"Have those iron-clad cowards won? No!"
"Our enemy still stands there like stone, and yet you have already lost your will to fight?"
Ogo was a master at manipulation.
After his harsh rebuke, the warriors all lowered their heads in shame.
"You have always been the soldiers I am most proud of."
"Think of your mothers. Think of your younger brothers and sisters waiting at home."
"They are waiting for you to return with spoils. But look at yourselves now—can you win like this?"
"If anyone wants to leave, then leave now. I will not stop you!"
Seeing his words take effect, Ogo pressed harder.
"Ogo, we will not leave! Lead us again! We will crush the heads of those iron-clad men!"
"Khal! Lead us to battle! We want to fight!"
"Let us fight!"
The Dothraki warriors roared once more, their fighting spirit reignited. They looked ready to tear the Targaryen army apart with their bare hands.
Satisfied, Ogo nodded.
"Good. I believe there is no enemy you cannot defeat now. Tomorrow at dawn, I will lead you in the most brutal, most bloody assault."
"We will show those iron-clad cowards what true battle is."
"Now go. Rest well."
The warriors answered in unison and returned to their tents to prepare.
Fogo looked at his father with admiration. If it were him, he could never have turned the tide of morale with just a few words.
"Father, let me lead the vanguard tomorrow. The warriors are fired up—we will break their lines!"
Ogo glanced at him and suddenly snapped.
"Fool!"
Fogo froze in shock.
"You think the Dothraki truly dislike armor? Even if we do not wear it, can we not make our slaves wear it?"
"Steel is steel. Courage cannot pierce steel. On the battlefield, protecting yourself is what matters most."
Ogo lectured his son on the hidden truths of the Dothraki.
The idea of fearless warriors charging bare-chested into blades— That was nothing more than a belief crafted to control their men.
Steel cut flesh the same way for everyone.
Only gods did not bleed.
"If we still cannot break their lines tomorrow, we withdraw to the Great Grass Sea."
"...Understood, father."
Ogo was a rare kind of "politician" among the Dothraki.
In another life, he might have challenged Drogo as a defender of their traditions.
But he had underestimated Drogo's strength and paid for it.
Now, his khalasar still had over ten thousand warriors capable of fighting. Continuing like this would only waste them.
His plan was simple.
Win something tomorrow... Enough to hide the failure... Enough to avoid cutting his braid.
Just as Ogo was about to return to his tent, a scout rushed in.
"Khal Ogo! The Gohor army has landed from the eastern Rhoyne! They bypassed the Volantene lines and are charging straight at us!"
"What?" Ogo frowned. "What do you mean they bypassed the Volantenes?"
In his mind, there were only two kinds of cavalry in the world.
Dothraki cavalry—
And everything else.
The riders of the Free Cities were nothing more than blunt instruments. Only the Dothraki could truly become one with their horses.
Half man, half horse.
Only they could maneuver with such freedom. So how had the enemy bypassed the lines?
Unless—
A thought struck him.
The Volantenes had betrayed them.
"Tell everyone! Drop everything unnecessary! Take only food, horses, and arakhs!"
"The children of the Great Stallion have been betrayed! We withdraw!"
The sudden order confused the warriors. But when they heard it was betrayal, they accepted it.
They had not been defeated... They had been deceived.
Retreat, then, was not shameful.
Just as Ogo prepared to move out, Alios arrived ahead of the Volantenes.
Sent by Malaqo, he brought urgent news.
"This Gohor cavalry is... strange. And Viserys himself leads them. You must withdraw at once."
Ogo narrowed his eyes. "How many?"
"At least ten thousand."
"All cavalry?"
"Yes, but—"
Ogo raised a hand, silencing him. "That is enough."
"There is no one in this world who can defeat Dothraki warriors in cavalry combat."
His confidence was absolute.
Centuries ago, the so-called victory of three thousand Unsullied at Qohor—That had only been because walls limited the Dothraki.
Now, these Gohor soldiers dared meet them in open cavalry battle?
Delighted, Ogo spread the news across the army.
Within a single hour, the warriors had gone through three waves of emotion.
Fired up.
Ordered to retreat. Ordered to fight again.
It left them dizzy.
But when they heard the enemy dared charge them with only ten thousand cavalry against their thirty thousand—
It felt like an insult.
Once, dragons ruled the skies. Now, the Dothraki ruled the earth.
On open land, they were kings. And this time, the numbers were three to one.
The advantage was theirs.
And when they learned that the king of Gohor himself was among the enemy ranks— The hunger for battle burned even brighter.
"Fogo!"
Ogo's voice rang out.
"I want you to take five thousand elite riders as the vanguard."
"Crush them."
"Yes, father!" Fogo's eyes burned with excitement. "I will bring you Viserys's head!"
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